


Rent Boy

by WaywardGraves



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Marking, Come as Lube, Credence Barebone Crying During Sex, Credence Barebone Shushing During Sex, Fingering, First Time, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Multiple Orgasms, Prostitution, Protective Original Percival Graves, Underage (briefly mentioned/non-explicit), ccc..., definitely not a virgin!Credence, if ya know what I mean, virgin!Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 04:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11223306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardGraves/pseuds/WaywardGraves
Summary: Credence wanders out of the church once the girls are asleep. Ma is sitting at the kitchen table and barely spares him a glance when he walks past. He walks a few streets over and loiters at the edge of the alley there. It doesn’t take long for a man to come up and run his hand through Credence’s hair and he shudders. He tries to pretend it’s Mr. Graves' hand. Ever since he met the man, he’s been doing just that.---Now in the shower he thinks of dark brown eyes that are almost black, he thinks of chasing away tears and scars with his lips as he does with his hands. He doesn’t think of anyone in MACUSA in that way anymore, not even Hughes’s handsome features aren’t given a second thought. Not now he’s met this poor No-Maj boy who’s going to be the death of him.





	Rent Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Who am I? Leave a comment!

Percival is working on paperwork when he hears a knock resound on his office door. One of the auror trainees… Jonathan Hughes, he thinks, pops his head through the crack when Graves wandlessly opens it, “Director Graves, may I talk to you?”

 

“Of course,” Percival says and motions for the man to take a seat across from him, “what can I do for you?”

 

“I just wanted to hand over my report.” He says, holding out a folder. When Graves takes it, he doesn’t move to leave, instead leaning forward on the desk, placing his chin in the palm of his hand, “Do you ever go out for drinks, sir?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Graves says, a frown forming on his face.

 

“Or dinner. I know a fabulous new Italian restaurant that just opened.” Hughes grins, flashing his white teeth.

 

Percival feels a swoop in his stomach, the man across from his is quite handsome but he can’t do this, “Listen… Hughes. While I’m flattered, this is very inappropriate. I am your boss and it wouldn’t be right.”

 

Hughes goes bright red and pulls back from the desk, “I’m sorry, sir. I just thought…”

 

“Think nothing of it, I’ll forget about it if you will.”

 

“Of course, thank you, sir. I’ll just uh… I’ll just leave now.” He gets up and flees from the room as fast as he could.

 

That night, Graves goes from work and takes a shower as always. After getting cleaned up, he takes himself in hand as always. He starts stroking along his cock, every night from the age of twelve this is how takes his pleasure. By this point in his life it’s as much habit as anything else, his orgasms bring release but it’s always almost muted. Not much enjoyment, but it does relax him before bed, before he has to get up and slog through the same hectic job day after day. Usually he pictures muscular bodies of faceless men, but tonight he pictures Hughes’s bright smile. He wonders what those lips would feel like beneath his own.

 

* * *

 

 

He learned about sex when he was eight years old. His parents sat him down on the couch in Graves manor and explained it in a cold, clinical fashion. A man and a woman get married, have a proper ceremony, and are bonded for life. Only after that happens, on their wedding night, the two of them have sex. The man places his penis in a woman’s vagina and moves until he finishes, then the woman grows a child in her stomach for nine months before she gives birth.

 

This is how you continue the bloodline.

 

He listened with the same detachment that his parents tell it. Later at Ilvermorny he would hear the boys in his common room talk about sex in quiet whispers that grow bolder and more lewd with age. He never understood why they slept with every girl (or boy) they could get their hands on.

 

When he was a second year he walked in on one of the fifth years moaning in the showers. He ducks behind a curtain and watched as the older boy strokes his hand over his rock hard cock that’s much bigger than Percival’s; it’s curved up towards his stomach and was red at the tip. Graves isn’t ignorant. He had woken up sticky sheets often, once or twice he had been hard, but he had never touched himself to make it go away. When the boy lets out a groan and comes down the drain Percival stepped into his own shower so he wouldn’t get caught. After washing his hair he brought a soapy hand to his cock. He tries to copy what he saw, sliding his hand up and down his shaft. His spine tingles and his knees feel weaker with each stroke. He thinks about the older boy, wondering what it would feel like to have his hand instead of his own, when he accidentally swipes his thumb over the head, he’s gone. His first true orgasm taking hold and sparks fly behind his eyelids.

 

When he returned home for winter breaks he asks his parents if boys can be with boys and girls with girls. They tell him that there are some people who are with the same genders. They say he will see it through his life and it doesn’t matter. But if you’re a Graves you do not marry the same sex.

 

This is not how you continue the bloodline.

 

He goes through his life, he has dated several suitable candidates to make his wife, pretty pureblood women from good families. But when he kissed them at worst he feels sick to his stomach, at best he feels nothing at all. His eyes always turn toward the handsome men that work in MACUSA, but he can’t, his parents would hate him.

 

But then his parents die and he stops looking all together. He dedicates himself to the job, his sister has married and they have three beautiful children whom he loves dearly like his own, but he’s never wanted his own. He climbed the ranks faster than anyone before him and when he becomes Director of Magical Security and Head of Magical Law Enforcement it’s the first time he’s felt happy in a very long time. So he works himself to the bone, he touches himself in the shower, he goes to bed, he wakes up, and he works himself to the bone. He knows one day he’s going to die on the job and he takes comfort in that fact. He sometimes dreams of his own funeral and he wonders how many will show to pay respect for their dear Director. Will no one come? He hasn’t always been the kindest man, you can’t be to rule the departments he does with efficiency. Will a thousand people show? They’d cry over his grave and Seraphina will give a heartfelt eulogy about his accomplishments, maybe they’d name a room or wing after him in the Woolworth Building. How many of them would be crying just for show, so they look important to having known the Director so well that they’re crying at his funeral?

 

That’s the extent of his fantasies until it’s 1926 when he’s a year shy of forty and he’s face-to-face with one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. The soft shape of his eyes and the plump curve of his mouth would make any man turn his head, the regrettable haircut could be easily fixed, yet Graves can’t deny the way it makes the young man look ...unique? He can’t find the words to describe the feelings the boy evokes in him. He knows his lithe frame and pale skin would make poetic man write a hundred sonnets. But he is not a poetic man and all he can do is stare at those lips when they say his name, “ _Mr. Graves_ ” in a way that should be reserved for a deity.

 

He needs the boy to find the child who’s wrecking the city, it has to be an obscurus, _it has to be._ But he can’t bring it to Seraphina before he’s sure. The boy, Credence, sees a lot of children who have lived lives that could form such a thing at that church of his. Every week the boy is empty handed, but Percival minds less and less because he gets to cup Credence’s face in his hands, he gets to hold him close to his body, he gets to whisper, _“my boy”_ into his ear, and best of all he gets to see a small smile grace the boy’s face every time he gives him a gift or see the wonder in his eyes when he shows him magic.

 

Now in the shower he thinks of dark brown eyes that are almost black, he thinks of chasing away tears and scars with his lips as he does with his hands. He doesn’t think of anyone in MACUSA in that way anymore, not even Hughes’s handsome features aren’t given a second thought. Not now he’s met this poor No-Maj boy who’s going to be the death of him.

 

* * *

 

 

Credence wanders out of the church once the girls are asleep. Ma is sitting at the kitchen table and barely spares him a glance when he walks past. He walks a few streets over and loiters at the edge of the alley there. It doesn’t take long for a man to come up and run his hand through Credence’s hair and he shudders. He tries to pretend it’s Mr. Graves' hand. Ever since he met the man, he’s been doing just that.

 

When Mr. Graves first approached, Credence assumed the usual. The man looked wealthy and Credence wondered how much he’d be able to get out of him. After pulling the boy into an alley and asking about a child, Credence frowned. There was no way he was letting one of the orphans be subjected to that kind of treatment. He planned to stay quiet, then tell Ma about the man. Maybe she’d be able to get the police to stop him next time he came around. It was unfortunate too as he was very handsome, Credence might not mind servicing him.

 

But the more the man talked, the stranger his words became. He spoke of creatures in the night, and he’s seen it in the papers, the buildings and streets destroyed from gas leaks. Or, not gas leaks if Mr. Graves is telling the truth. The man speaks of magic, he gives him proof of Ma’s sermons throughout the years. But his magic isn’t painful, doesn’t feel of the devil like she claims. No, his magic is bright and warm as little balls of light dance around Credence’s head in the alley. Mr. Graves speaks of a child. Someone who needs their help and Credence is more than happy to oblige.

 

Every week he fails to find the child, Credence is sure Mr. Graves will press him against the wall and take the only thing he has to give. But every week the man says that just trying is enough and he’s so thankful for his help. He leans into the soft touches, and the tender hands almost make him weep. He wants to return pleasure to the man but he doesn’t dare say anything. He can’t risk losing the only person who seems like they’d care if he died.

 

When the man pulls him by his collar into the alley, he closes he eyes and imagines Mr. Graves' warm touch. But this man is not Mr. Graves. He’s large and has a thick mustache with food in it and his hair is combed over to one side. Credence takes the fifty cents thrust at him and he undoes the stranger’s belt and fly and he holds the man close so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye as he strokes the short cock beneath his fingers.

 

After a few more clients, he returns home with two dollars that he hands to Ma. She looks at his cum-covered clothes with disgust and tells him to remove them for cleaning. He hands over his belt immediately as he takes it off, just as he did the first time all those years ago.

 

Ma had caught him kissing Jimmy Peterson behind the church when he was thirteen. That night she took him to a street corner and said if he was going to act like an invert he may as well earn something towards their mission for it. Once he was fifteen, he was allowed to go find men by himself. By the time he turned eighteen, he had learned to separate himself from his actions; becoming numb to it all. That is, until he turned twenty-four and Mr. Graves came along. Ever since, all Credence wants to do is be the older man’s lover with a burning need he’s never felt before.

 

Credence returns to the present once he removes his underwear, bearing himself completely to his mother. He stares at his feet as she asks, “Did you enjoy it?”

 

“No, Ma.” He replies honestly, as always.

 

“I don’t believe you.” She says, as always.

 

He sighs and turns around, kneeling upon the hard floor. The strikes come down upon his scarred back and shoulders, tearing into his flesh once more, but he does not cry out. If he cries out there’s only one name that would fall from his lips, begging for salvation, and it isn’t Ma’s or God’s.

 

* * *

 

 

One night as Graves lays in bed, he feels the overwhelming need to see Credence. They just met two months prior but he can’t stop thinking about holding his boy again.

 

No.

 

He isn’t _his_ boy, he can’t think like that.

 

He apparates outside the church and casts a silencing charm over the building. After, he apparates into Credence’s bedroom… but the boy isn’t there. With a _Homenum Revelio_ he sees there are only three people in the house. He wants to go down and threaten the vile woman into telling him where he is, but he still has to uphold the Statute of Secrecy.

 

He leaves and starts walking, trying to figure out where the boy could be. He gets about a block down when he hears unmistakable sounds coming from within a nearby alley. He looks and sees one man, thrusting his cock hard down the throat of another. The man on the ground is gagging with each push and his head bounces off the bricks behind him, even with the other’s fingers entwined in his hair.

 

Graves would’ve acted no matter who this person was, but it only takes him about five seconds to recognize the unfortunate haircut the attacker is holding onto. He apparates directly behind the man and without second thought he throws a hook into the side of his head. The stranger drops to the ground and Graves kicks him in the stomach, he heaves in pain and curls in on himself. Percival raises a foot and brings it down on the sniveling man’s hand, feeling satisfied at the crunch he hears from under his heel. He’s about to strike again when he feels a trembling hand grasp his own. He turns back to Credence and the boy is pulling him and a chorus of, “please, no, don’t, stop” is tumbling from his lips.

The attacker scrambles to his feet and starts to run when Percival’s back is turned but as he draws his wand to subdue him Credence pulls him back once more. He knows helping the boy is more important that chasing down the perpetrator at this point but what he wouldn’t give to smash the man’s teeth in. How _dare_ he, how dare he touch his Credence. He drops to his knees and pulls the boy in and crushes him in a hug.

 

“Credence, are you okay? I’m so sorry that happened to you.” His voice breaks and he realizes he’s trembling harder than the boy in his arms.

 

“I’m fine Mr. Graves, I’m sorry you had to see that.” Credence mutters into his shoulder.

 

Percival pulls back and stands up, holding the boy’s hands and helping him to his feet, “This wasn’t your fault Credence, men like that will take whatever they want from people and it isn’t your fault. They’re cowards and no one deserves to be treated like that.”

 

“Mr. Graves… you don’t understand—”

 

“My boy, you are so compassionate and you deserve the world. You deserve to be treated with love and respect.”

 

“Mr. Graves, I’m a whore.” Credence says, face flushing red and his eyes stay on the ground.

 

“No you’re not,” Graves says firm, “you can’t let this one thing define you. It’s going to be hard, but I’ve known a lot of people who have gone through similar traumas and I promise you, Credence, I _promise_ I will be there with you to help you every step of the way.”

 

“Mr. Graves, please stop.” Credence says, tears have cut tracks down his face at the kind words and it’s so much harder to tell him now. He debates letting the man believe the lie he thinks happened but he deserves the truth, “I’m a whore. I mean that. That man was going to pay me. I’m an invert Mr. Graves and it’s how I do my duty to the church.” He can’t contain the sobs that wrack his body, he knows Mr. Graves won’t stand to touch him anymore. Maybe, if he’s lucky, the man will still let him help search for the child.

 

“Credence…” Percival doesn’t know what to say. He never could’ve imagined this innocent boy would’ve been forced into such a thing, but with a mother like his how can he be surprised she’s also his pimp?

 

“I’m sorry sir. Please…”

 

“No, I’m sorry,” He says, “I didn’t realize.”

 

“You were trying to help me,” Credence says, his breathing growing more steady again, “No one’s ever done that before. It’s okay, I can still go to the bar. There are always plenty of men there.”

 

“No, just uh…” He pulls out his wallet and grabs all the no-maj money he carries, “Here take this.” He says, shoving the money into the boy’s hands.

 

“Sir,” He says, his eyes going wide, “There’s at least a hundred dollars here. I can’t take this.”

 

“Yes you can, I have no need for your kind of money. Please, keep it.”

 

Credence steps forward, pocketing the money, and puts his palms flat to Graves' chest, “There must be something I can do, as payment.”

 

Percival backs up until he hits the wall, “Credence I—” but he’s cut off when one of those delicate hands palms over his cock, and he feels it harden instantly.

 

“Let me make you feel good, Mr. Graves.” Credence murmurs as he deftly undoes the man’s belt and unzips his pants.

 

“Credence, I’ve never…” but he gasps when skilled hands wrap around his length, stroking lightly.

 

“You’ve never?” Credence asks, halting his movements. He furrows his brow and looks up at the man.

 

“Never, not with anyone. I-I can’t.”

 

“What do you mean?” He asks, moving his hand to grip the man’s hip but not backing away.

 

“I never got married. Never wanted a woman. My parents, they wouldn’t approve.”

 

“I thought you said religion wasn’t prevalent in your world?”

 

“It’s not. I’m supposed to continue the bloodline. That’s what sex is for.”

 

“Mr. Graves…” Credence says, “Sex is supposed to feel good, something you share with someone you care about. Ma says it’s not but I see happy people on the streets, I hear the way they talk when they think no one is listening.”

 

The man pauses, looking down at the boy, “Have you ever…” he starts, blushing, “ _been with_ anyone you care about?”

 

“No,” He says, and Percival can see the sadness behind his eyes. Credence leans forward, pressing his cheek to the man’s and whispering in his ear, “but I’d like to.”

 

Graves sucks in a breath, “Who do you care about, my boy?” He asks, his voice is so low he barely recognizes it.

 

“You.” Credence says simply, and he drops to his knees. He places a kiss to the tip of Percival’s cock and looks up through his lashes, the man gives him a nod and that’s all the permission he needs before taking him all the way to the base.

 

The tight heat is too much and a pleasure he’s never experienced before awakens in his belly. He cums immediately.

 

He's embarrassed he couldn’t give Credence any warning but the boy doesn’t seem to mind as he milks Graves' cock for all it’s worth.

 

After he tucks him away he stands back up with a bright smile on his face. Percival can’t help it, he crashes their lips together in a heated kiss (something he actually knows how to do) and there’s a possessive swoop at the taste of himself in the boy’s mouth.

 

“There are other things,” Credence whispers, “that we could do. If you want.”

 

Graves is too far gone already and with a hoarse, “Yes,” he apparates them to his bedroom.

 

The second they reappear, Credence pounces, locking his lips with Graves' devouring them like a starving man. He pushes the expensive coat from the man’s body and practically rips off his vest. He brings his hands up and reaches for Graves' collar, “May I take this off you, sir?” He asks, and Percival can’t get over the way his lashes flutter. This kid is so damn _pretty_.

 

The boy unbuttons Graves’ dress shirt, one by one they fall open, and with each new bit of skin revealed Credence kisses his way down his chest. Once the shirt is discarded, the boy brings those sinful lips to his right nipple, kissing it before running the tip of his tongue around the hardening bud. Percival gasps, “Credence, what are you…” it feels like his body is alight and he arches into the younger man’s touch.

 

“Shhh…” he hushes, “let me take care of you.” He grabs the man by this waistband and pulls him towards the bed. Turning them around, he pushes Percival onto his back. Graves lands flat on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. He pushes himself up so he could watch the boy. Credence holds the man’s gaze and he brings his hands up, slowly undoing each button one by one. He grabs his collar after the shirt is all the way open and he pulls it back, slowly revealing skin, until it falls gently off his narrow shoulders.

 

He’s shocked by the turn in the boy’s behavior. The quiet, docile creature he’s grown to care about in dirty alleys is no more. Before him stands a beautiful young man, the lamplight throwing soft shadows on his delicate features, making him look otherworldly. Percival half-expects angel’s wings to unfold at the revealing of his naked torso.

 

What he does see is the litter of scars, silver and pink curling around the ice-white skin. Some older, some newer. Credence had never asked Graves to heal anything other than his hands before. His heart tightens at the display of such cruelty. How could _anyone_ hurt another person like this, let alone someone in their care, _let alone_ , someone as innocent and kind as Credence?

 

Credence sees the man staring at his body with a frown and he falters, “I- I know I’m not the prettiest to look at Mr. Graves. I’m sorry. You can close your eyes if you want to?” After years of performing his… services, Credence doesn’t have much room left for shame. Yet, standing here before a man he loves he can’t he but wrap his arms around his body trying to hide the worst of his scars. He drops his eyes once more and his shoulders draw up under the scrutiny and he’s half in mind to grab his shirt and flee when the older man pushes himself all the way up so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

“Come here.” Percival says quietly as he stretches one hand palm out. Credence takes it, some of his confidence returning. The man pulls him in and settles tremoring hands on the boy’s waist, he leans forward and places a chaste kiss to a particularly deep mark above his right hip bone, “There’s nothing about you that isn’t beautiful Credence,” he gives another kiss to what looks like a burn above his navel, “but why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped?” _This is okay,_ Percival thinks to himself, _I know this role. I can help here. I can do this._

 

“I didn’t want you to think I’m weak.” Credence mumbles, he brings one hand up to rest on the back of Graves' neck where his head is still making its exploration across the expanse of wounded skin.

 

Percival looks up at his boy, “There is nothing that would ever make me think that, ever. These marks don’t show weakness, they show strength. They show how much you’ve endured and the fact that you’ve survived such horrors and are still the kindhearted man before me is nothing short of a fucking miracle.” Tears have started to fall from Credence’s eyes and he stoops down, kissing Percival hard, trying to put everything he wants to say into that press of lips. Graves wraps his arms around the young man and pulls him on top, his thin frame weighing barely anything. Their kisses start soft, simple small licks and nips to the other. Credence deepens it, pressing his tongue in to wrestle with the older man’s. He grinds down and grabs Percival’s hand bringing it around to hold his ass.

 

Graves gasps into the kiss and the friction feels amazing. Somehow he stiffens in his pants even further when all contact is suddenly lost. He whines and is embarrassed he could even make such a sound. He pushes back up on his forearms and see Credence sitting on his haunches. “Will you help me with these?” He asks, bringing Percival’s hands to the zipper of his pants. Throat closed up Graves nods, with a brush of his fingers the pants and underwear dissolve leaving Credence totally bare.

 

The boy squeaks at the display of magic, but recovers fast. He moves onto the bed between Graves' clothed legs, he rubs his hand up a thigh, “Will you take these off? I want to see you.” Graves waves his hand and vanishes his own clothing, his erection springs free.

 

Credence groans, he wraps a hand around the man’s cock, stroking slowly. Percival grips the bedsheets, trying to keep himself from spilling immediately. His own hand never felt like this, the scars on Credence’s palm provide a rough sensation that catches on every pull. The boy drops his hand and lays down on his stomach. He presses a kiss to Graves’ thigh before swiping his tongue along the underside of his cock, “My boy,” he pants, “you keep this up I’m going to cum.”

 

“Mmm… we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Credence says with a teasing smile. He pulls back and trails his fingers around the base and down his sack, fondling lightly. Percival throws his head back and it cracks against the headboard but he doesn’t feel anything but sick pleasure that the pain brings. Glancing up to make sure the man is okay Credence kisses down his length until he reaches the wiry hairs at the base. He nips at them lightly, toying with them, before pausing to just breath in the man’s scent.

 

Graves tangles a hand in Credence’s hair and the boy looks up from his spot in the man’s lap, Graves' eyes are like molten lava. He feels a heat spread through him with a force that’s enough to make him shudder. The hand tugs him up and he goes with it, meeting Percival’s lips with a heady fervor. He rips away from the kiss with a gasp and without breaking eye contact, moves back to the man’s cock. Graves’ heart thuds in his ears and something constricts in his chest. The way the boy looks at him with such unadulterated adoration makes him feel like he’s worthy of something he can’t name.

 

Credence lolls his tongue around the head and it’s over. Graves is cumming in thick stripes over his face. “Oh,” The boy gasps and it’s like time freezes.

 

Percival looks at the picture before him and his breath is stolen, his spend is covering the alabaster skin, it’s drying in the raven hair, and dripping from his eyelashes every time he blinks. Graves flushes, “Credence, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He raises his hand to clean him up, certain the boy is laughing at him for cumming like a teenager, but Credence catches his wrist.

 

“No, don’t…” He says, his tongue peaks through to lick up the release from those plush lips and Percival feels his cock twitch at the action, somehow trying to harden again. Credence drags his hand through the thickest part of the seed on his cheeks and he flips, bringing his knees underneath him.

 

“Credence… what are you—”

 

“I need to be ready for you.” He says, he reaches his hand behind him and sinks one cum-covered finger all the way into his hole. He moans and the sound goes straight to Percival’s cock, which gets half hard again almost painfully. Credence sees the man’s eyes go black with lust and he smirks, “Do you want to see me?”

 

Graves can only nod and the younger man flips onto his back, planting his feet into the mattress and pushing in two fingers this time. The angle isn’t as good but he wants to put on a show for Mr. Graves. His own neglected cock arches towards his belly and twitches, leaking precum.

 

He looks at the man who’s again clenching and unclenching his fists in the sheets, his cock almost hard once more. Credence’s eyes become half-lidded and in a raspy voice says, “Touch yourself for me.” Graves doesn’t take orders from anyone short of the President herself but he feels pinned by the younger man’s gaze. He brings a shaky hand to his own cock and strokes, bringing it to full hardness in time with the push-pull of the boy’s fingering of himself.

 

Credence leaks onto his belly more at the sight but he doesn’t want to cum yet, he intentionally avoids his prostate when he presses a third finger in and scissors them around, stretching himself until he can’t bear it any longer. He removes his hand and Graves can see his pink hole, wet with his seed, flutter around nothing. The boy practically pounces on Percival, capturing his face between his hands and the older man’s mouth with his own as he straddles his hips.

 

He reaches back and positions Graves’ cock, “Are you ready?” He asks, breathless.

 

“Yes, yes. Please.” He begs and the sinks down almost halfway. Graves is thankful he’s already cum twice or else he would’ve blown his load then and there. Credence winces and presses further when Percival grips his ribs, “You can go slow—” He starts.

 

“No, no I can’t. I need this, I need you. I need you in me.” He takes a deep breath and _mewls_ when he drops all the way down. He scrambles for purchase, nails biting into Percival’s chest.

 

“Oh, fuck.” Graves cries, the sensations are too much. He doesn’t know if he can handle it. But then the boy starts moving and it’s so much better or worse, he isn’t sure.

 

The young man rises and falls, increasing his speed with each movement. Percival can do nothing but hold on as the boy rides him hard. His hands are still clawing down the man’s abdomen and the mixture of pleasure-pain almost tips him over the edge.

 

Credence has found a rhythm that hits his prostate with each fall onto the man’s cock and it’s perfect. He keeps his balance while chasing his own pleasure as sparks shoot behind his eyes and he’s babbling, too far gone to think of what he’s saying, “Oh God, please. I can’t hold on. Oh, Daddy you’re so good… so good for me.” He’s panting like he’s ran a marathon, the coil that’s been building up snaps and he’s cumming untouched over both of them. However, he doesn’t stop moving even as his cock goes soft and he groans, his over sensitive hole dragging along Graves’ shaft. It only takes a few more pulls before the man is spilling into the boy with a muffled shout.

 

Credence collapses on top of him, the man’s cock slowly slips from his abused hole and he curls up into his side, his eyes closed. He looks at Graves, “Was that okay, for your first time?” He asks tentatively.

 

“My boy…” He doesn’t even know how to respond, he knows never wants to be with another person, “I don’t think there will ever be anything better.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Credence says, a small smirk back on his face, “You haven’t even had my tongue in you yet.”

 

Graves groans, “You can’t talk like that, I can’t go another round.”

 

Credence laughs and opens his eyes, but instantly a look of horror comes upon him when he sees the man’s chest, “Mr. Graves, I hurt you.” Blood was dripping from where he scratched him.

 

“Oh, It’s—”

 

“No, no. Oh, I’m- I’m so sorry.” He says, tears his eyes. He places a hand over the marks and buries his face in his shoulder crying softly.

 

“Credence…” Percival says, his voice filled with something like shock.

 

He doesn’t look up though, “I didn’t mean to..” He sobs harder.

 

“Credence—” He starts again.

 

A stream of, “I’m so sorry,” falls from the boy’s lips. He won’t move until Graves grabs his chin and pulls his face up.

 

“Credence, _look_.” Percival says, insistent. Confused, Credence looks where the man motions and gasps. The wounds are knitting themselves slowly back together under his palm. He yelps and pulls his hand back, but the skin heals until there’s not a trace of injury left. With a click of his fingers Graves summons his wand, “Credence, I need you to do something for me,” he says, handing it over.

 

The boy takes the wand with trembling fingers waiting for instructions. Graves says, “I want you to repeat after me, _Lumos_.”

“ _Lumos_.” He whispers, not breathing, not daring to hope, but a small white light blooms at the end of the wand.

 

He turns to Graves who lets out a joyous laugh, he pulls the boy in, hugging him tight, “My boy, I believe you're a wizard.”

 

“But… _how_?”

 

“I don’t know and right now it doesn’t matter. You’re staying here tonight, you’re never going back to that place.”

 

The first tears of joy he’s ever experienced spring to his eyes and he kisses the man, “Mr. Graves… thank you.” He says,

 

“Is it Mr. Graves again?” Percival asks, smiling with false confidence. He's not sure he can continue without flushing. Still, after the things Credence just did to him, he thinks he can try to be erotic. “Not Daddy?”

 

Credence groans, pulling back, and blushing, “I was hoping you didn’t hear that,” he covers his face with his hands, “it just slipped out.”

 

“Well,” Graves says, “you can call me Daddy if you’d like to. You are my boy, after all.”

 

Credence peaks between his fingers, “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, or you can call me Percival, that works too.” Graves moves them so he’s spooning the younger man. They’re both still filthy from their previous activities but with a silent _Scourgify_ they’re clean again.

 

“I think I love you, Percival.” Credence whispers, like a confession.

 

“I think I love you too, Credence.” He responds, kissing the back of the boy’s neck. He doesn’t know where this will lead, what tomorrow may bring, but maybe… just maybe… he may be able to marry someone he loves after all.

 

The sigh is so quiet he almost misses Credence’s words, “Goodnight, Daddy.”

 

“Goodnight, my boy.” He murmurs back before sleep pulls him under.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post on second-salemite's blog... http://second-salemite.tumblr.com/post/159398692531/ive-seen-so-much-of-innocentcredence-time-to
> 
> This is also a birthday fic for a very special friend, hope you like it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [can't you hear my heart beat? (for the very first time?)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325306) by [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr)




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